HIM? Think of those poor overworked fireflies, condemned by his cruel domination to do their mating dance all evening whether they are in the mood or not! I say it is cruel and unusual punishment, a form of trans-species pimping. Oh, fir, fie, fie!!

Sorry... I seem to forget that laptopgnu isn't the real deal. But, hey! I was watchin three football games, typin at trolls and talkin trash with the guy that now owes me coin on football, AND readin the City of Moncton By-Law 406 regardin my garbage. Sue me if I messed up. BTW, you CAN put light bulbs in the blue bags. Jus sayin, eh?

An ode to wax and hemp and flax And other handy makings That let you face chaotic times With spirit never breaking. To steel and oak and string and cream To bleach and angostura! WHen things are wrong in how they seem These goodies reassureya! To gas and plastic, stone and clay And a hundred thoudand others; We need the things of earth each day More than we need our mothers.

Oddjob Stuffmeister, Materialist Ways, as published in the Journal of Hardcore Materialism, vol 6, issue ix, page 35, June 1987

I used to have grackles and starlings perch in the trees in my back yard and along the creek and at the neighbors. They have a collective memory and don't come over here any more. I have an old galvanized trash can and my method is simple but noisy - take the lid and and old golf club pole (the head is missing) and while holding the lid by the handle and walk close to the trees then break into a huge amount of banging on the lid. The birds do not like this. I might do it in the back then walk to the front and bang the lid near the across the street neighbors trees. Exit birds. They perch a couple of yards away or in the woods, but after a few evenings of lid-banging they just don't come into my range. And after a few years of lid bangings they don't come hang out in this neighborhood.

You have to be sneaky (get as close as you can) and bold and forceful when banging the lid, don't worry what the neighbors will think. If they ask what is that gawdawful racket, just tell them.

CIL. Memories. Special Long Range Dynawad. Sigh. Now, the best we can buy is Winchester and such. From Walmart, no less. Of course, one's success in putting food on the table depends more upon knowledge and experience than the height of the brass. Why, I can tell you the price and quality of damn near any staple at the Coop, Sobeys, Superstore, Rinzler's and Costco week by week. Spuds? $2/10# at Superstore. Salt cod? $5/# at Sobeys. Marg? $2/# at the Coop. Omega3 eggs? $4.79/18 at Costco. Fishcakes and eggs for brekky!

That's why you use a pellet gun from inside the house. Whatever noise there is is contained in the house...and the neighbors can't see what you're doing. A "wrist rocket" slingshot is also good. But a load of #6 shot is best of all.

I have a box of .22LR C.I.L. ammo that's never been used, if you can figure a way to obtain it. Postal services don't like stuff like that to be mailed and it seems kinda silly to go through all the paperwork required to ship it legally. This is the genuine Canuck article, too.

Me too, A. How dare those dastardly crows eat the unborn young of Hbirds! If I lived outside the city limits, slingshot be damned! It would #6 shot and fire and explosions. Controlled, of course, and their carcasses left in the sun as a warning to others of their ilk to steer well clear. Unfortunately, one is required by law to refrain from the use of deadly loud force within city limits.

One dead Hbird = not enough dead crows. An empirical equation but valid in my analysis and opinion.

Rifle? No. Coat hanger, one a them there long elastics, roll of solder and the proper tools. Ya can put a dent in an aluminum storm door at over 60 feet. Of course, yer old man's shoe can subsequently put a dent in yer arse too. Silence. The only thing ya hear is a crow exclaim, "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

They have been infesting the city over the past 6 years. I don't mind them so much even tho they caw incesantly at dawn. But, they have driven out the Ruby Throated Hummingbirds soooo, come spring, they shall fear the name of Garryowen in Glory. Nobirdy fucks with my Hbirds.

If anyone wants the plans and specs for the deadly weapon, lemmie know. Just make sure ya wear eye protection if ya use one. (Same goes for that cheap 22 ammo from Mexico. Got a breech blowback from a 94-22R years ago when a casing split and that required wearing my first seeing assistance device.

SOB! Most of the crows in view from my office window have flown without any photos or footage. No, that's not it although I am sad about not being able to record the event. I went out to move some flowers to a frost safe spot and discovered that four of the crows were indeed upset by being rudly awakened. Could have been more than four but I didn't check the box or roof of my truck. SHIT! Literally. Just waxed the truck, too. >:-(

There's still about 500 crows in view from my backyard but none within garden hose range.

Pull-thru... a 3' length of light rope/twine with a weight and loop at opposite ends. A cloth is inserted in the loop and lubricated with oil. The weighted end is placed in the barrel at the breech and "dropped" to the muzzle end. Then the cloth is pulled through the barrel several times to remove residual powder and to lubricate the shooting iron. Johnny keep your gun clean.

I would never scare small children with "warning shots". Teenagers? Hmmmm...

I am presently being serenaded by hundreds and hundreds of crows in my maple and pines out back. Either that or they are voicing their displeasure at my waking them an hour ago when I stepped outside to gauge the frost threat level. The migration is underway.

The frost threat level is high but the flowers may just have to die as the crows will fly and I await dawn with camcorder and camera.

An obvious "Freudian slip" of the fingers. Amos, you must feel that you are not only going to "win" this lawsuit (if anyone ever "wins" a lawsuit) but are also "safe" (i.e., immune) from it. Yes, I recognize that you could easily slip over the border into Mexico to escape the inexorable (though often plodding) march of Justice but I think that you have too much old-fashioned Yankee grit. I think that you'll tough it out just as your ancestors (and mine) toughed out Ice Ages, famines, wars, plagues, poverty, carnivores, cold, rapine and other things that we, in our more comfortable Age, cannot even imagine.

Why don't you just send a check for the amount stated and we'll forget the whole thing?

Hiding your slanders in polysyllables will not relieve you of your legal burdens sirrah; and it is clear from the scarcity of your own hairline that you are projecting once agaoin WHy don't you just erect a large mirror next to your workstation? It would safe us both so much time!

"Pull-through" is a Canadian term, Stilly. It refers to what would be called "pull-ups" elsewhere, but in Canada pull-ups have nothing to stop their being pulled up.

I have recently learned that Amos suffers from being a trichophagiacal onychophagic. I hope that he gets help soon and often, and I will donate some of the money I win in my lawsuit against him to assist his cure.

Don't do Hallow Een no more. Too many "non-kids" come 'round or are trucked in from all over town. If I did I'd rig a trip wire and steal their candy...or use a hologram to provide a REAL ghost to answer the doorbell...or rig Pepper's Ghost...or do anyone of several things.

As for Mr. Amos, I think that it's wonderful that your duck sings like Paul Robeson -- a bass canard. Or is it part fish -- a bass canard? Or do you use the QEII for the game of tag, a base Cunard? (I can continue to assist you in losing your breakfast.)

Are any of you planning costumes for Halloween, or are you going to scare the bejesus out of the kiddos when they approach your homes? MOM asked that the front step up to the porch be repaired so no one else falls through it again. Just because we know to step over it, the little guys in their political masks lugging huge pillow cases of candy can't be expected to drag themselves out of that hole if they stumble in.

You call MY canards base, while your own are so off-base as to be groundless, lost in a trackless desert of thoughtless ill-considered venom? Oh, fie, you incorrigible miscreant. You are a mere poltroon in a college of refined BS. Go back to your feral golfs and see if they can teach you a better use for your unseemly dimples.

The exchange of poems ended with mine, so far; any rebuttal poem is due from Mister R. But I am not concerned. As for apps, all I have are my heart, my wit, my soul and my hands. App enough to make app remarks.

Oh, Jolly. Lawyers who save pennies and waste pounds. Look, Rapp, you can't go around picking fights like that and then suing people who lambast you as a result. You get it 'cause you had it coming, see? It's that simple. TRhe log in thine own eye and all that. Rathere than invent attack dogs to sic on behalf od some imaginary wrong done to you, why not take some time for sober self-examination and reflection, and find your inner happy place? Then go to it, and pull it in after you.

It's been a quiet day in South Woebegone, my home town. Dog and I went to thebeach and she galloped like the wind up and down, ducking and wrassling qwith other dogs, lunging into the surf and out again. She lost a ball, and got all blamey as though it was my fault I didn't have it. Can't win with them lady dogs, no-how. Got a tiny bit of writing done, not enough to pay for passage around the damn sun, though. I swan I am worthless. Maybe I'll just make music.

Given that his lawyer isn't even sure how to spell his own name, I don't think it will be a problem. He bears the burden of setting the antecedent conditions his own self anyway. So that there dog won't hunt much, I reckon.

I accept whatever penalty the good Rapparee wishes to demand for my calumnies against him, providing he fully acknowledges and allows equal compensation to me for his own prior (I must emphasize prior) calumnies against my good self.

I am writing this letter on behalf of our client, Mr. Rapparee, who is instituting a lawsuit against you for one dollar (USD 1.00) more than the value of everything you now own, have every owned, or will ever own. You have injured Mr. Rapparee's feelings over and over and left him so low in self-esteem that he needs a ladder to climb up high enough to brush his teeth.

Please let us know the name and address of your attorney or to whomever we should address on this matter.

Your poetry, sir? It deserves not the label! It's duller than cold broth, dried out in the ladle Your scansion's pathetic! Your lines are clichéd! You write like a teen who has never been laid! Your mastery of language, neither subtle nor fair Brings to mind an old bullock who is losing his hair! The images are tawdry, and sleepy, and flat! You, sir, are no poet! ANd that, sir, is that!

My poetry is better, is best You can use it for pleasure To feather your nest To keep out the cold winds The blow from the North Which rattle you blinds And leave you bereft Of warmth and sanity Drive you quite daft As daft as Old Amos Sitting there by the hob Mumbling poesy, And failing the job.